Cuddle Puddle

cuddleI’m pretty sure my first experience in a cuddle puddle was at a HAI Level 1 retreat at Harbin Hot Springs.

There was a break in the activity and some of us opted to lay down on a pile of pillows.

Snuggling and cuddling just happened.

Try to imagine prickly, stuffy old me being invited into a cuddle puddle with a bunch of relaxed, down-to-earth people.

But I’ll try anything and so I did.

I laid down with virtual strangers and gave myself over to the experience.

And it was amazing.

Now I know it’s hard to picture me enjoying snuggling.

Everyone knows I’m an action girl and I scoff at snuggling (at least until after the main event).

But this appealed to me.

The smiling. The hand holding. The gentle touches. The bodies cuddled up to mine.

I was relaxed and enjoying myself.

Fast forward eight years and I’m at SoulFire in a cuddle puddle with two women and a man.

Same result.

Relaxing, snuggling, cuddling, soft sensation.

It was all too brief but satisfying.

So here I am looking at my inbox today and there’s a new invitation to a Santa Clara cuddle puddle.

Do I want to go?

Hell yes.

Then what’s stopping me?

Probably the fear that it won’t be my scene. That I won’t feel a connection to any of the people there.

Maybe I’m a little bit afraid of the person I might become if I finally let my hunger for intimacy out into the open without the post-coital justification there to mitigate it.

Maybe I’ll have to admit there’s more to intimacy than just sex.

And that I am woefully BAD AT IT.

Maybe…

 

Collars up the wazoo

Honestly.

You buy one teensy weensy little collar and all of a sudden etsy SLAMS you with ads for BDSM accouterments.

collarFirst of all, I wasn’t even AWARE that there’s something out there called “Kitten Play.”

Although I imagine it’s probably a lot like “Puppy Play” which I have heard of.

I’m not into Furries, though.

I would likely NEVER wear a collar that says “Kitten.” Too soft and girly for me.

Personally, I’d go with “Fucktoy.”

OMG, I can’t believe I wrote that.

Too much honesty?

In any case, I bought a white leather collar to wear with my white wizard outfit.

collarAnd then I bought a rainbow chainmail collar with a heart hanging off it for my rainbow outfits.

collar rainbowAnd oh yeah, I bought a unicorn collar, just for shits and giggles.

collarSo I guess etsy isn’t too far off in recommending collars for me. I certainly seem to be acquiring quite a few for my collection.

Can’t wait to wear at SoulFire!

SoulFire (aka the night I lost my pants)

I can’t BELIEVE I haven’t told this story yet.

As you know, SoulFire is near and dear to my heart.

And it’s because of the people and cherished memories.

So many loving hugs, smiling faces, and open hearts!

Each time I’ve gone to SoulFire, it’s with my BFF Tejas.

The first time we ever went, we took his Motorbeast (the RV) and did a “mock up” of Burning Man.

To see if we could live with each other.

Within minutes of arriving and setting up, I was making Tejas a cocktail.

A margarita.

He handed me his cup, which was a LARGE MCDONALD’S cup that used to hold soda in it.

I made him a QUADRUPLE!

Actually, what I should say is that I MADE HIM A QUADRUPLE WITHOUT TELLING HIM!

[I call it a QUADRUPLE, but really I have no idea how big it was.  I just kept pouring tequila.]

I thought it would last the next several hours.

Well, he drank it down, not realizing how much tequila I put in it. . .

. . .and proceeded to forget the rest of the evening.

No memory of having dinner. No memory of getting nicknamed by a sexy woman.

Nothing.

I, on the other hand, proceeded to walk around naked (it was a naturalist resort, btw) then semi naked in a tank top and booty shorts.

Let’s just say when I woke up in the morning, I couldn’t find my jeans!

Late into the evening however, someone came to fetch me to bring Tejas home to his RV.

He was sitting on a bench, happy as a lark, ready to go to bed.

And do you know, I managed to get him to the RV, undressed, and even got his C-PAP machine on him before I went to bed.

I am one hell of a good friend (or good at making up for being a BAD friend and getting my BFF wasted).

Tejas and I always have a good laugh about it now.

The night I got him drunk, lost my pants, and put him to bed!

SoulFire 2016: The Shirtcocking Chronicles

Do you know what shirtcocking is?

It’s when a man walks around naked wearing nothing but a shirt (often an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt) with his peen hanging out underneath.

Shirt + cock = shirtcocking

Shirtcocking is tolerated with amusement at Burning Man and regionals.

It is thought that shirtcocking originates when a man wants to walk around naked (a perfectly acceptable past time at a naturist retreat) but he’s worried about burning his chest, back, and shoulders, so he puts on a shirt.

There was A LOT of shirtcocking at Lupin this past weekend.

Maybe because of the 95 degree heat.

The only thing to do was get naked and jump in the pool to cool off.

I went to the pool and saw a lot of peen this past weekend.

It seems like there’s always at least twice as many men as women at the pool.

But hanging out at the pool was great.

I love seeing body diversity – tall, round, short, squat, slim, and everything in between.

Of course as my friend The Blonde Goddess put it, “There’s nothing like being at a nude resort to make you feel fat.”

I had my issues, but I fought them and in the end had a wonderful time.

I’ve drunk my fill of naked men and women.

And those shirtcockers?

Well, I just let them shirtcock.

And giggled on the inside.

Here’s my picture of all the cocks that were shirtcocking:

bratwurst

SoulFire 2016: The Heat Stroke Chronicles

white witch michelleMaybe it was just me.

Maybe everyone else did just fine.

But I managed to get myself good and overheated as well as dehydrated at SoulFire TWO DAYS IN A ROW!

Tejas and I arrived on Friday at 10 am and set up camp in the heat. Once camp was set up we drank rum and cokes until I started to worry that I wasn’t getting enough liquid so I drank 3 diet cokes.

Just a word of advice: Diet Coke DOES NOT PREVENT DEHYDRATION.

No it does not.

Because at about 9 pm after battling a dehydration headache for about two hours, I gave up and went to bed with 3 Tylenol RIGHT WHEN THINGS WERE GETTING GOOD!

I laid there, freezing cold, wanting a bed partner to snuggle with while I recovered.

But no, there were no bed partners to be found.

I laid in bed until about 1 am, then got up to party only to find that the party was winding down.

So back to bed.

Try again another day.

Cue Saturday.

I’m drinking TONS of coconut water to keep me hydrated and yet with the 95 degree heat I still manage to overheat.

Dante took me to the Restaurant to sit in air conditioning and cool down.

I was dizzy walking up the hill to the Restaurant (even though I was wearing nothing but pink ruffled panties and a crochet bikini fringe top).

There was an art exhibit going on in the Restaurant and I found that if I positioned myself just right I could stare at a picture of a dolphin while the vent blew cold air up my butt.

It was amazing!

So, lessons learned:

Diet Coke is not the same as water

Coconut juice will not prevent overheating

Do what you need to take care of yourself

However, if you fuck up (like me) then friends are so helpful when you’re not feeling well.

Love to Tejas for giving me Tylenol and love to Dante for cooling me down.

michelle and tejas

Making Peace

I friended an ex-boyfriend on Facebook recently.

It’s been at least 6 years since we really spoke or saw each other.

I must say, more so that any other person in my life (besides my children) he has indelibly altered the course of my life.

Everything that I do now, from Burning Man to boudoir photos, I do because he taught me to explore life outside my comfort zone.

Test your edges, he used to say.

And then he pushed me to test them.

I think it was easy for me to make him the bad guy when things fell apart, specifically because he was so insistent that I explore new activities and interests.

In case you didn’t already know, change is hard.

It’s easy to sit in your comfort zone, with all the things you know and are familiar with.

It’s much harder to get out and try new things – things you might not understand too well or be instantly good at.

So. . .

I made peace with it.

And him.

Life Goes On

Sorry I went AWOL on my blog for a few days.

As it turns out, producing a weekend long campout in the mountains AND dealing with your son’s upcoming neurosurgery simultaneously has made it challenging to blog on a regular basis.

Rest assured I will make every attempt to keep up with the flow.

My son had a CT scan yesterday that took 4 hours.

Why did it take 4 hours?

Because the Radiologist had to be consulted to make sure the right test was run.

Something that COULD have been figured out AHEAD OF TIME, but at least they were cautious.

The CT scan was done for the sole purpose of seeing how much of my son’s skull is compromised by the dermoid cyst.

As I’ve said earlier, my son needs to have a portion of his skull taken out in order to fully remove the cyst so it won’t grow back.

I appreciate that the doctors are insistent that we run all the necessary tests so that they know what they’re dealing with BEFORE they cut.

So there you have it in a nutshell.

The latest and greatest in my life.

Oh, and today is my oldest son’s 19th birthday!

So there will some celebrating despite the stress I’m under.

Life goes on.

And so will this blog.

Update on my son

Here’s the latest on my son.

He has what appears to be a benign dermoid cyst, a saclike growth present at birth.

No big deal.

The problem with his cyst is that it’s compromising his skull.

Meaning a portion of his skull will need to be removed with the cyst by a neurosurgeon.

According to the pediatric surgeon, this is a challenging surgery because

  • The cyst is on the back of his head which means he has to be operated on facing down, always considered a riskier surgery.
  • It’s also considered a high blood loss surgery (so family and friends may need to donate blood for him).
  • There’s always the risk of infection (gah!).

I am personally more than a little freaked out about this.

I looked up dermoid cyst on the internet and found out it’s a type of teratoma (a tumor made up of several different types of tissue).

A sacrococcogeal teratoma is exactly what caused the death of my son Douglas way back in 1998.

I don’t think I need to explain the fear that is coursing through my body right now at the thought of another teratoma threatening the well being of my child.

If you are the religious sort, please say a prayer for my son.

And if you are not religious, please send good energy and positive thoughts our way.

We’re doing better but we’re not out of the woods yet.

Diapers to drink

When I was in college at UCSB, we drank Keystone Light at parties.

It was our go-to beer for the college crowd – cheap, cheap, and cheap.

Fast forward 30 years, and I wouldn’t dare drink a Keystone Light.

I’d rather shave my head with a cheese grater while chewing on tinfoil.

I’m all about craft beer, as evidenced by my membership in the Southbay Beerhounds – an unpretentious haunted house of eccentrics who love beer, dogs, and other oddities.

Yes, sir.

Just like there are wine snobs, there are also beer snobs, and I’m one of them.

My oldest son has now joined the ranks of the college crowd and you know what their favorite drink is?

Coors.

It kills me that he drinks Coors and the other day my sister and I were chatting about my son’s wayward taste in beer.

She too scoffs at Coors.

According to her, it’s a waste of time and alcohol to drink Coors because you have to pee all the time.

The alcohol goes straight through you.

We’re not even sure you can get drunk of Coors.

One thing is for sure, if you’re going to drink Coors, you’ll need diapers to drink.

New Baby Smell

When I was in Sweden this year, I met a couple expecting their second baby.

They hosted The Swede and I over the New Year’s holiday.

We played Monopoly in Swedish and The Swede declared that I lost because I tapped out and sold all my properties at below cost value to his competitors.

The Swede won anyway.

And he declared me to be a cheater.

I’m sure if you asked him now he’d still say I cheated.

But I digress. . .

The other day, a picture flashed across my Facebook page of a beautiful newborn baby girl.

With the Swede.

Now, I don’t know about you but there is something very sexy about a man holding a baby.

It actually makes my ovaries shudder in the same way that my ovaries shudder when I see a fireman.

If my ovaries had a voice I’m sure they’d be screaming, “IMPREGNATE ME NOW!”

But as far as the baby goes, I can just imagine the fragrance wafting off her soft, peach fuzz head.

And just the thought makes me giddy.

There’s just something about that new baby smell that makes women want to self-impregnate so that they too can have a reliable source of it.

New baby smell = the middle aged woman’s crack.